An Orchid and a Note
by TheDoctorAndSouffleGirl
Summary: S.H.I.E.L.D has fallen, Hydra is taking over, Phil Coulson has decided to tell his former love Audrey, the cellist, that he survived New York.


**Author's note: I don't own any of the characters in this story, all credit goes to Marvel**

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_S.H.I.E.L.D has fallen, Hydra is taking over, Phil Coulson has decided to tell his former love Audrey, the cellist, that he survived New York._

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Coulson quickly moved to his seat at the back of the audience, he wanted to surprise her, but also he wanted to reveal himself to her in a more sensitive way. She had thought he had been dead for 2 years, she couldn't just see him. Not before a show. He knew how much playing meant to her. The lights were already down as he slipped into his seat, good, in the aisle, he didn't have to disturb anyone. Total silence. The audience waited in anticipation. Then she came on stage, Audrey, just as strikingly beautiful as he remembered, her dark hair curling gently around her face, carrying her cello. He thought it was the same one that he remembered, but he couldn't tell from this distance.

Then the music started, Bach's cello suite. Coulson let it wash over him. The music was like a portal to him, transporting him back. Back before New York, T.A.H.I.T.I, before he was changed. To the days he spent with her, they seemed an age ago, a different world. One filled with music and laughter, real laughter, and love. As he listened, he could still recall the feeling of her lips against his, her hair softly tickling his face as she rested against him, the feeling of waking up in the morning with someone on the other side of the bed, morning sun turning her hair almost auburn. As the cello line grew over the rest of the instruments, he was reminded of the sound of her practicing, the face she made when she concentrated on a particularly difficult section, the way her tongue poked out slightly from between her pursed lips, her laughter as she tried to teach him and he could simply not make any sound resembling music. It was nice, he thought, to have someone to come home to, to have a home of his own, someone to share the quiet moments, when nothing needed to be said, it was enough simply to be. Much as he loved his team, it really wasn't the same, not quite.

There was a slight pause before the second piece of music began, as this piece started, Coulson was suddenly reminded of the first time he saw her. The same piece, a different concert hall and two much younger people. From the moment she had set foot on the stage he had been inexplicably drawn to her. He was entranced as her fingers flew nimbly over the strings, just as they did now. He thought absently that she was really not that different from that girl now. He had gone around to the back door after the show, and, well, things had progressed from there. He paused for a moment, allowing the music and memories to flow over him. It was nice to escape from all the worry, stress and responsibility, if only for a short while.

He wondered how she would take his return. He hoped that she would be okay. He hoped she might even have him back, even as a friend. He had spent weeks debating whether he should reveal himself to her, and how he would do it. He had decided to do it after a show, in private, he knew where her dressing room was. It wasn't difficult to find things out with Skye on board. In fact, it had been his team who had finally persuaded him to go. He couldn't understand why they were so keen on the idea really, but then he didn't know what they were thinking most of the time anyway. The music continued in swelling and receding waves, it filled the entire hall with it's magnificence. A masterpiece, the piece itself, the playing and, indeed, the player.

The music reached a climax and then died away gently, with unbelievable sweetness. The audience burst into applause, and Coulson joined them. She stood up to bow to the audience, she looked so happy. He was worried now that his plan would break that happiness. He knew that she had been devastated when she had been told of his death, he had been told. What if she didn't want him anymore… Worse, what if she hated him… She was making an announcement now, beckoning to someone in the audience. What was happening?

Suddenly there was someone beside her. A man. He leaned in to kiss her tenderly… It took a few seconds to register, her man. He saw her laughing, saw that smile that he once thought was reserved only for him… They were making an announcement. They were engaged. Engaged. He had once thought that it would be him up there, but that was before he had to disappear. Before his life had been changed. It felt like being stabbed in the heart all over again, but he knew that this time it wouldn't kill him, it was the sort of pain you have to live with. He didn't know what he had expected really, she had thought he was dead, she had grieved but she had moved on. She was happy, so happy. He supposed that he had thought, hoped that she hadn't truly moved on, he knew that he hadn't. Of course he didn't wish that she had been grieving his loss for 2 years, unable to enjoy life, but he had hoped, in some corner of his mind, that she might accept him back. That they could return to some semblance of mortality. He knew that it wasn't rational, but the heart isn't a beast of a rational nature. He wiped his face, realizing with surprise that he was crying. He hadn't cried in a long time, and certainly not in public. He did not intend to start now, pull yourself together, he thought. At least she was happy.

He knew that he couldn't take this away from her now. He couldn't shatter her life for a second time. He supposed that this was what loving someone truly was, allowing them to be happy even at the expense of your own desires. He would be happy for her. He tried to be positive, it would be better this way, he had the bus and his team, he wouldn't have to worry about leaving someone behind to go on missions, wouldn't have to worry about causing her the pain of losing him again. She could have a normal life and he could go on like he had been since New York.

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Audrey came back into her dressing room later that evening. She found a bouquet of orchids left on her dressing table. Each one was perfectly formed, white with a delicate blush of pink on each petal. Just like the ones Coulson used to buy her, she thought sadly. She read the attached note, typed neatly, "Dear Audrey, An orchid and a note for a beautiful woman. Your playing tonight was simply wonderful. Congratulations on your engagement. I wish you all the happiness and love you could want. Please accept these flowers as a gift of my appreciation. X" She wondered who it could be from, thinking absently of Coulson, but then she felt a hand on her shoulder and a gentle kiss on her cheek and she pushed those thoughts away, picked up the bouquet and her cello and walked out with her fiancee's hand round her waist.

Coulson saw them leave together, happy to see that she was holding the flowers he had left. He hoped that she would appreciate them, he knew that they were her favorite flowers. He saw the easy smile on her face as she walked by and he knew that he had made the right decision in not showing himself. He walked away with a slightly sad reluctance, but peace of mind knowing that his Audrey was happy and that she was safe.


End file.
